Agony
by MegaNerdAlert
Summary: Teaser: "You must really be sloshed, Minerva McGonagall," Hermione hissed. "Because the woman I know and love would never have kissed me like that and treated it like…like…GAH!" - Sometimes choices, for better or worse, hurt like hell. It might actually be considered agony.


**I got the following challenge from the facebook HG/MM Fan Club, from a very sexy chick named Paige.**

**"I wanna read something that'll make me cry. Powerful speeches, deep conversations, fights, anger, simpering emotions, passionate kisses, screaming, tears. Something extreme and moving. Somebody make this happen please!"**

**Now that you know what you're getting yourself into, please enjoy this one shot.**

* * *

**2029**

* * *

Hermione Weasley watched as an alabaster coffin was levitated into place next to the tomb of Albus Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, was dead. Thousands of people watched in sorrow, tears turning to ice on the cheeks of those who cried in the cold, November weather. Leaves blew around the crowd, catching on black coats, cloaks, and umbrellas. A song from the merfolk of the Black Lake could be heard softly in the distance, bringing sound to an otherwise silent affair.

Hermione's face was still dry by the time the crowd dissipated and she made her way to the open casket alone. It would be left open for only a few more, precious hours, and Hermione took the time to see her former professor, one last time. No tears would be shed by the married, mother of two today, as she'd cried herself dry the night before. Numbness when she'd gotten the news had been overcome by unbelievable agony when she'd gotten the letter from her long ago mentor the previous evening. Today, Hermione could feel nothing but anger towards Minerva - anger that she would carry for the rest of her life.

"Fuck you, Minerva," Hermione whispered bitterly, as she lay a single, red rose on the dead woman's breast.

* * *

**1995**

* * *

It wasn't something she did, nor something she had said, that gave Hermione Granger away. It was the haunting look of hurt that was always in her eyes when they happened to be in a room together that did it. Minerva McGonagall sat by herself in her quarters, musing over her recent realization that the current Gyffindor Prefect had a rather big crush on _her, _of all bloody people. This was not the first time a student had developed a romantic interest in one of the Hogwarts Professors, but that was usually toward Severus Snape, or one of the other, younger teachers. At her age, Minerva had long since stopped being an object of anyone's affection, which she was fine with.

Back to Granger. What on earth could that girl see in her? Minerva really didn't consider the teenager's feelings anything to be concerned over. She would continue conducting herself as she always had, because unlike other infatuated students Minerva had encountered in her long career, Granger was quite smart, and she felt certain that a girl like that would never _make a move, _as it were, because she had to be acutely aware that even if her feelings were reciprocated, which they certainly were not, nothing would ever come of it. Minerva's awareness of Granger's feelings meant nothing at all...it was simply that - an awareness.

* * *

**1998**

* * *

Hermione Granger sighed as she stepped into the Gryffindor common room after taking a long, hot shower. After a year on the run hunting Horcruxes, and then the battle to end all battles, it felt absolutely divine to be clean. The high that Hermione was on in that moment ended abruptly when she realized who else was in the common room.

"Professor McGonagall," she sputtered, dropping the towel she'd just been drying her hair with. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione's heart pounded as Minerva looked at her curiously. The eighteen year old had almost forgotten how much it hurt to be around the older witch - around the woman who had stolen her heart almost four years ago. Minerva had been her first love, and Hermione, while she knew nothing could ever come of it, wondered if she'd never be able to move past it.

"I was hiding," Minerva replied with a small smile, "from the chaos. I was hoping to take a minute to get my head on straight before people realize who I am now."

Hermione nodded, understanding. "Headmistress," she said.

"Quite," the battle worn witch confirmed.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Hermione politely stated, moving to leave the room. She hadn't seen the woman in over a year and her presences was still...intoxicating, yet terrifying.

"Miss Granger," Minerva called just before Hermione stepped through the portrait hole.

"Yes, Headmistress?" Hermione replied, turning around slowly.

Brown eyes met green, and Hermione saw a question dancing in the older woman's gaze. She did not ask it though, but rather nodded curtly. "It was good to see you," she said. "Do keep in touch."

Hermione nodded in agreement, not trusting her voice. _Keep in touch? s_he thought to herself as she sulked down the corridor. _What happened to never seeing her again and hoping the pain would fade with time and distance? No, that was one request that she would not be granting._

* * *

**2004_  
_**

* * *

_"_Have you heard the latest about Hermione Granger?" Pomona Sprout asked her boss at dinner.

Minerva smiled, thinking of all the wonderful things her former student had already gone on to do. Three masteries, two smuggle degrees, and a job at the Ministry which would eventually lead to the Educational Board. "What's she done now?"

"She has gotten engaged to Ronald Weasley!" Pomona announced, obviously quite excited about it.

Minerva frowned. _No, that can't be right. _"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Neville told me this morning," was the easy reply.

Why did she not feel remotely good about this? Minerva wondered to herself.

"He's not good enough for her," she reasoned, unconsciously voicing her conclusion. "He can't match her intellect."

Pomona chuckled. "Minerva, the only person alive who could match her on that level is you."

Minerva felt a warmth spread through her at the thought of being Hermione's match. _Wait, what? _she internally gasped. _I don't care for her like that! Do I?_

"Ron Weasley is a good young man," Pomona prattled on. "He's been by her side since they were eleven, so they must suit each other well enough."

An image of Ron Weasley with his clumsy hands all over Hermione formed in Minerva's mind. The level of anger that began to coil in Minerva's gut told her the answer to her own question.

_Yes, I do,_ she admitted.

Minerva had felt regret before, but as she thought back on the look in Hermione's eyes when they had last met, just after the Battle of Hogwarts, and how she'd seen love there, even more than had been a few years prior when she'd realized how Hermione felt, Minerva was overwhelmed with thoughts of what could have been. They could have been amazing together, she suddenly realized, heart breaking over the news that meant that Hermione had obviously moved on.

* * *

**2003**

* * *

Hermione Granger looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked nice in this slimming, white gown. She admired what Ginny had done with her hair, up in an elegant bun, and then with a wince she found her thoughts drifting to Minerva, who had always worn her hair in a similar style. Hermione had long ago accepted that what she felt for the older witch - that deep, uncontrollable love - was not going to go away. She also had come to terms with the fact that the woman who had her heart would never return her feelings, and so as hard as it had been to even contemplate, she attempted to move forward with her life. Then, after four years of dating, Ron had gotten down on bended knee and proposed.

Now, a year later, she was five minutes from saying "I do", and while she knew Ron could give her a life and a family, and that he'd be an amazing father when it got to that, she couldn't help but recognize what she was doing. Hermione was settling.

A half hour later, following the words "I now pronounce you man and wife," Hermione forced a smile as a tear drifted down her cheek. She had just made a commitment to a man that didn't have even half of her heart - a man who thought the sobs she was holding back were tears of joy.

God, was Ron wrong. The only solace that Mrs. Hermione Wesley found on her wedding day was that the man at her side loved her, and the woman she was trying to move past did not.

* * *

**2004**

* * *

It was a few months after the wedding of Ronald and Hermione Weasley than Minerva decided to take a day away from Hogwarts, find a muggle pub, and get properly sloshed. The news of the newest Weasley couple's engagement had hit her hard enough, but the pictures of their wedding a year after Minerva realized she was in love with Hermione Granger, which Pomona had been passing around at dinner the following evening, had ripped her apart. Regret filled her soul, realizing now that she didn't really give a damn about proprietary, and how she should have attempted to reach out to the woman who had her heart while she was still simply engaged. Betrothals could be called off with a word, but marriage vows were a sacred thing that Minerva did not believe should be broken.

At least, she thought she was convicted about that, until the newly wed Hermione Weasley walked into the very pub she had been sitting at for the last two hours. Their eyes met all of five seconds after Hermione walked in, and Minerva saw her own panic reflected in the younger woman's eyes. Hermione began backing away toward the door, stumbling over a chair in the process. The break in eye contact allowed Minerva to snap back to reality and evaluate what that moment meant. Hermione still loved her, she realized, despite having married Ron only months before.

Minerva slid off her stool and staggered over to where Hermione had fallen, offering her a hand up. "Still not over me?" she asked without thinking.

Hermione gulped, but took the outstretched hand. "Could we talk about this...outside?" Hermione asked quietly.

Minerva nodded, and followed the younger woman out of the murky pub and in to the spring moonlight. She knew she was drunk, which should have been enough to make her realize she should stay far, far away from Hermione, but still, her heart lurched at the contact from merely a touch of the younger woman's hand, and she found that she could not resist talking to her, even if it was just for a minute.

"How long have you known?" Hermione asked.

_Known what?_ Minerva asked herself. That Hermione loved her, or that she loved Hermione? Doubtful that the woman she had not seen in person in at least five years could have a clue how she felt, she decided to assume Hermione was talking about her own feelings. "Since you were still a student," Minerva answered. "I decided to forgo the awkward conversation of confronting you, then, as I thought you were smart enough to know nothing could come of it."

"No, that reality did not escape me," Hermione snapped. "And yes."

"Yes?"

"I'm still in love with you," Hermione stated. "How drunk are you, to bring this up now?"

Minerva frowned. "Highly," she replied. "I'm sorry, I should not have said anything."

Hermione just stared at her for a moment, and then before she knew what was happening, the younger woman's lips were on hers, and a deep instinct that said this woman belonged with her gave Minerva enough disregard for who they each were to kiss Hermione back with everything she had.

The battle of tongues and crashing of teeth only lasted a few seconds before Hermione abruptly pulled back. "What the hell?" she asked.

Minerva furrowed her brow in confusion. "What?"

"You bloody kissed me back!" Hermione accused.

"Yes?" Minerva said slowly, still not understanding what Hermione was going on about.

"You were NOT supposed to do that!" the younger witch shouted. "You…you…Minerva do you…I mean…"

"No," Minerva said, as two things happened. One, she realized Hermione was asking if she felt something too, and two, she sobered up enough to realize that no matter what she did feel, Hermione could never, ever know. She would not destroy a marriage. She could not. So, she lied.

"Then why did you kiss me back?" Hermione demanded.

"I am human, Hermione," Minerva said, truthfully.

"And?"

"And generally when a beautiful woman kisses you, you enjoy the moment and kiss her back." Oh, the lie slipping off her tongue tasted more bitter than anything Minerva had ever known. She knew it was coming before the impact, and knew she rightly deserved it, when Hermione slapped her. More than the sting on her cheek, knowing that she had just grievously hurt Hermione hurt like hell.

"You must really be sloshed, Minerva McGonagall," Hermione hissed. "Because the woman I know and love would _never_ have kissed me like _that_ and treated it like…like…GAH!"

With that said, Hermione turned and apparated away, leaving Minerva standing in the middle of the street, alone. The Headmistress stood there for a while, just staring at the space which Hermione had previously occupied. After a few minutes, she sighed, and make her way back inside the pub. She took long strides back to the bar, and took a seat back on the same stool she'd been using prior to Hermione's arrival. "Just give me a bottle of Whiskey," she said to the bartender. "A glass will not be necessary."

* * *

**2006**

* * *

Rose Minerva Weasley had born in the early morning hours of that day. Hermione had debated on the wisdom of naming her daughter after the woman, despite their last encounter, she was still in love with. Still, Ron had liked the name, and thought it was proper to name their child after a war hero. Hermione figured he was just trying to copy Harry and Ginny, who's second son had been born a few months ago and been named after two Headmasters of Hogwarts.

Hermione had done a lot of thinking since her run in with Minerva two years prior. The kiss…oh, God, what a kiss…had obviously meant nothing to Minerva, and while it had hurt tremendously to hear that two letter word come out of the older witch's mouth, in reality, it should not have surprised her. She already knew Minerva didn't think of her that way. The kiss, which she had been the one to initiate, had been a moment of boldness on her part after seeing the look of apprehension in Minerva's eyes when she'd walked into the muggle pub. At first, Hermione had thought that the look had meant that Minerva felt something for her, too, but in retrospect the look was probably just the Headmistress of Hogwarts feeling uncomfortable with the notion of a student, albeit a former one, finding her in a muggle bar, quite drunk.

That said, if she was going to name her daughter after the woman, she really should send an Owl to Hogwarts to personally inform her of the birth. She hoped that Minerva would take it as an extended olive branch, and that perhaps they could find a way to make their next encounter, who knew where or when, less dramatic. If she was very lucky, Minerva might have been so drunk that night that she had no memory of the event in question. Granted, Minerva _was_ Scottish, and anyone with a brain knew it was in their blood to hold their liquor.

* * *

**2008**

* * *

Minerva smiled softly as Hermione's Owl flew through her window. After Rose's birth, the two had begun corresponding via Owl about this and that. Things were amicable between them, though neither had ever brought up their last, in-person encounter, nor did they bring up anything relating to their personal feelings. It was mostly academic discussions, though sometimes they talked about what was going on in their work lives. As far as Minerva was concerned, things could stay like that forever – it was the only safe course of action for any relationship with the brilliant, beautiful, younger witch.

She opened the Owl and her smile grew wider. Hermione had given birth again – a son this time. Hugo Frederick…Weasley. Minerva's smile faltered at the name _Weasley._ Hermione always signed her name _Granger_ when they corresponded, so she usually didn't have to get the reminded that the woman she loved belongs to someone else…not that she could forget.

"Damn it all," Minerva muttered.

* * *

**2010**

* * *

Hermione was being run ragged by her two year old son and three and a half year old daughter, but neither her busy life, nor her ever nagging notion that she was an idiot for doing so, she continued to make time to write Minerva. Her initial thought when Minerva first sent her an Owl about an article in _Transfiguration Today_ was that if Minerva was writing her at all, then she must not remember the night they'd kissed, and if that was the case, she might as well enjoy what little she could get of a relationship with the older witch. After all, it would be a one in a million chance for her to ever bump into Minerva _that_ drunk again, and even if she did, she would certainly be smart enough to learn from her mistakes and run like hell the next time.

So for the last three and a half years, the two had Owled back and forth, once or twice a week. She both loved and hated those letters. It was an amazing high when Minerva's snowy white Owl glided into her kitchen at breakfast time, but on the days that the morning meal passed with no letter from the Headmistress, Hermione found herself moping for the better part of the afternoon. It was rare for a letter from Minerva to come any other time of day. She admitted once to writing the letters in the evenings, and then sending them off just before heading to breakfast in the Great Hall, in the morning.

It was like a drug addiction, really. Hermione knew she could not cut Minerva off, no matter how desperately she knew she should. With each passing letter, Hermione fell more and more in love with the older woman, and less in love with her husband. Ron was wonderful, admittedly, but he wasn't _her._ He never would be. She'd known that she was settling when she married him.

Back then, Hermione had hoped that Ron would be enough – that the family they would build was worth being in a marriage that Hermione didn't believe she deserved to be a part of. Oh, aside from that kiss, Hermione had been faithful to Ron, physically. On the emotional side of things, however, Hermione's heart belonged to Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, more and more as each year came and went.

* * *

The downside to attempting to have a relationship with Hermione, and allowing it to continue to grow within the bounds of friendship, was that when Hermione began writing about her marital problems to Minerva, problems like this arose.

Only last night, Hermione had Owled her and confided that Ron had cheated on her. This morning, she'd had to go into the Ministry of Magic to get this terms list of muggleborn families to be contacted, and had run into none other than Auror Weasley.

She hadn't really thought about it – she simply saw him, and drew her wand. She smirked at the look of confusion on his face when she pointed it at him, which had morphed into a tight lipped, unattractive, ginger weasel about five seconds later. He squealed. She had then proceeded to hit him with a few stinging hexes, an activity which she would have gladly let go on for a good while, had Kingsley Shacklebolt not arrived and ordered her to stop.

He had ordered her off the property, and she was now back at Hogwarts trying to explain to Filius, her Deputy, why he would have to make the runs to the Ministry for the next year, until the restraining Order that Ron Weasley had filed against her expired.

On the upside, when she'd Owled Hermione to apologize for her behavior, the younger witch had promptly written back and said that the only thing she had to apologize for was not inviting Hermione to bear witness to the event.

While one would think that Hermione's understanding about what she'd done to Ron meant that everything was fine, Minerva didn't think so. The lack of self-control that she'd displayed told Minerva that like it or not, simply being friends with the woman she was in love with was too much to bear. If she'd done something to truly harm her husband, Hermione may not have been so forgiving, and if their relationship, for what it was worth, had to end, then she preferred it to end on a peaceful note rather in response to an epic fight that was bound to happen has the years passed and her feelings for the younger woman continued to grow. Perhaps, she reasoned, her feelings would stop growing if she stopped speaking to Hermione – and so she resolved to do just that. No goodbye Owl…just silence.

* * *

**2012**

* * *

It had been almost two years since Minerva had written her, and after no reply to her countless Owls in inquiry to the reason for the cease and desist of contact, Hermione had reached her limit. She had told herself she'd give Minerva a year to explain, but when the year passed and nothing happened, she found herself spending another ten months seeking the nerve to confront the older woman. Children left at Ginny's, Hermione apparated to Hogwarts on a Saturday evening, determined to speak to the Headmistress.

It was Easter Break, so not many students were around, though the ones who did looked curiously at the well-known war heroine as she strode purposefully toward the Head's office. She had nearly gotten there what a familiar voice called her name.

"Hermione?"

She turned around to face Neville Longbottom, a long-time friend who was now teaching the lower Herbology classes at Hogwarts. "Hello, Neville."

"What are you doing here?" he asked curiously.

"Looking for the Headmistress," she said coolly, unable to keep the frustration she felt for Minerva out of her tone.

Neville raised an eyebrow. "What's going on between you two?" he asked. "After we graduated, you guys avoided each other, and then you started talking after Rose was born, and then the last few years, back to a avoiding each other. I doubt I'm the only one who noticed…"

Hermione stiffened. "It's…complicated, Neville. And something I don't want to talk about. That said, Minerva currently avoiding me is why I need to see her. Is she in her office?"

"Her quarters," Neville said quietly. "You remember the way?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Thank you."

"Hermione," he said in parting. "I hope you two can work out whatever it is…I mean, I've never met two people more alike. Everyone here was actually surprised when you didn't do what I did – come back to teach, I mean. You were Minerva's protégé, like I was Pomona's. You were meant to be here, with her."

Tears threatened to escape Hermione's eyes at Neville's comments. "It's just not that simple," she said. "See you around."

She turned to leave, taking quick strides all the way to Minerva's quarters. When she got there, she took out her wand, ready in case the older woman was less than welcoming, and knocked.

The door opened a moment later, and the smile that Minerva had been planning to show whoever she thought was at the door vanished abruptly, replaced by wide eyes and paling skin. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Let me in," Hermione said tightly. "Or I will blast this door open by force. No word for two years, Minerva. I need to know why."

"Bugger off, Hermione," Minerva snapped. "We have nothing to say to each other."

"We had plenty to say for almost four years before you stopped talking to me!" the younger witch snapped, pushing her way past Minerva and into the older woman's quarters.

"Your husband put a restraining order on me, remember?" Minerva said, slamming the door closed and joining her uninvited guest in the den.

"Because you turned him into a weasel."

"He cheated on you."

"And it was not your place to punish him!"

"That's not what you thought two years ago," Minerva reminded her sharply.

Hermione remembered. "I didn't say he didn't deserve it, but that set aside, the restraining order expired ten months ago, at which point your valid excuse for blowing me off was null and void."

"Maybe I liked the peace and quiet and decided to keep it that way," the older witch thundered.

Hermione groaned. "Really, you want to go down this path? I could kiss you again and we could relive the rest of that night."

The fury in Minerva's eyes was almost tangible. "DO – NOT – BRING – THAT – UP," she hissed.

"Don't like being reminded that you got so sloshed that you kissed a former, female, student?" Hermione challenged. Well, if all cards were on the table, she figured she might as well bring out her ace.

"Not particularly!"

"Why the hell were you so drunk that night, anyhow?" Hermione asked, voice lowering, a mixture of curiosity and concern blanketing the fury she was feeling.

"I do not answer to you, Mrs. Weasley," Minerva said coldly.

Magic crackled in the air around them. The stench of burning rubber seemed to permeate the room, though nothing was burning. Hermione broke down in tears, all of the years of anguish seemingly coming to a head here, and now. "Why did you cut me off, Minerva?" she whispered. "If you never speak to me again, please just answer me that."

Minerva sighed, and adjusted her glasses. "Hermione, the fact of the matter is you have feelings for me – why, I'll never know – and I simply cannot continue to lead you on to believe we could ever be more than we were fifteen years ago. You have a husband, and two beautiful children. Go home to them, and for the love of Merlin don't seek me out again."

Soul laid bare, and heart broken in too many pieces to count, Hermione nodded, turned around, and left.

* * *

**2015**

* * *

It had been nearly three years since her last contact with Hermione, but Minerva still dreamt about that night. As much as her memory knew that she had driven the younger woman away for the sake of the family she'd built, her heart knew that she had done it because she was scared.

Scared of what she and Hermione could have been.

Scared of a friendship turning into a tool of destruction of many lives.

Scared of failing in a parental role for Rose and Hugo, should she and Hermione have begun a life together. Her own parents had left her in the care of House Elves till she was eleven, and then made it clear that she should stay at Hogwarts over the holidays. Summers in her youth had been lonely times in the Scottish Highlands, with only a few people, muggles, around for company. Her parents and both been off doing their own things. She had become a teacher because that's what it took to stay at Hogwarts – the only true home she'd ever known. She had never married because she was afraid she'd be a bad parent, like her own were for her. Love had found her a few times though the years, but nothing that had lasted.

In the case of Hermione, she knew beyond any doubt at this point that the younger woman was the perfect match she'd been hoping to find all of her life, and should she have let the other woman in, Minerva knew that when things went badly, as they always had in Minerva's relationship history, it would kill her.

She was scared of losing Hermione. So, instead of risking that loss, Minerva simply pushed the beautiful young woman away, no matter how many chances she was given to step up and tell Hermione the truth. It didn't matter one way or another, she mused, as so long as Hermione was married, she was out of bounds even if Minerva did find the nerve to tell Hermione how much she loved her.

"Why are you crying, Minerva?"

The Headmistress turned to face the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, her former boss and dear friend of many years. She wiped away the tears she hadn't realized she'd let fall before replying. "It's nothing, Albus."

"You look like your heart is breaking, my dear," he prodded. "Talk to me."

"The timing was off," she muttered. "When I realized how she felt, I was too stupid to see I felt the same. When I finally came to terms with who I'd fallen in love with, she was engaged to someone else. Now, she's married, with children…and I cut her off because it was the right thing to do…"

"The right thing to do?" Albus asked. "Is she happy in her marriage…and out of curiosity…who is _she_?"

"How would I know?" Minerva snapped. "We haven't spoken in two years, and that was only one, horrid conversation that had been preceded by two more years of not speaking. Prior to that…she told me he had cheated on her…but I've heard no word of a divorce so they must have reconciled."

Albus popped a lemon drop in his mouth, awaiting the answer to his other question.

"Fine," Minerva huffed. "Hermione. Granger. Or rather, Weasley."

"Ahh…" Albus said. "If she loved you before she married Mr. Weasley, had it occurred to you she may have simply settled? That given the choice, she'd choose you?"

Minerva nodded. "I know that's what she did. Were that not the case, she would have left him when he stepped outside of their marriage. However, _that _was her choice. Once she was married, any chance of us being together was gone."

"But you've never let on that you feel the same," Albus pointed out, "so how is that fair to her? I'm not suggested you seek her out for the purpose of an affair, but were you to present to her how you feel, might she leave the man she is probably not happy with, so she would be free to be with you?"

"She might," Minerva agreed. "Which is why I will never tell her. In the end, I love her too much to be that selfish – I could not give her a reason to destroy her life, especially when she deserves so much better than me, anyway."

"You are a fool, Minerva," Albus said sadly.

"If that is so, then a fool I shall remain," was the tear filled reply.

* * *

**2017**

* * *

Hermione laughed as Ginny relayed the latest of her daughter Lily's antics. The nine year old had covered her brothers' brooms with crazy glue after she'd heard they were planning on going for a fly in the nude, simply to say they'd done it. The embarrassment of the eleven and thirteen year old boys had been epic in proportions, when they had to get Ginny's help to get unstuck.

Just then, an Owl fluttered into the living room where the two women were hiding from the summer heat. It dropped a letter on Hermione's lap, and was off again without even waiting for a treat. Hermione picked it up, and then promptly dropped it again as if it was on fire, when she saw the Hogwarts crest. "Oh, God."

Ginny leaned over to see. "Hogwarts? Probably just Rose's school letter," the red haired woman mused. "Albus got his a few weeks ago. Rose's birthday is tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, of course that's it," Hermione breathed. Her hands were shaking. It had been years since she'd seen that crest – years since she'd had that last confrontation with Minerva.

"Okay, so why do you look like you just about had a heart attack?" Ginny asked, brow furrowing.

"I thought it was from…never mind." Hermione shook her head. "Bloody hell, I am ridiculous."

"McGonagall?" Ginny asked, voice lowering.

Hermione looked up sharply at her friend and sister-in-law. "What?"

"Come on, Hermione," Ginny said. "Neville told me that you and McGonagall had a huge fight a few years back…and I have noticed that you look like you want to cry every time she or Hogwarts comes up in conversation. What happened between you two?"

Hermione caressed the envelope, thinking. She had never told anyone about that night, or about anything that led up to that night. Suddenly, she realized that she really had no reason to hide it from Ginny. Ten or fifteen years ago, she would have felt that Ginny would question her commitment to Ron because of it, but after all these years of marriage, surely she had proved herself. After all, Ron had been the one to have an affair…and she never had. It would be good to tell someone. Perhaps, she hoped, telling Ginny would help her move past the love she'd been virtually crippled by for the better part of the last two decades.

And so Hermione told Ginny everything. She told her about falling in love with the woman she couldn't have, and about the encounter with a drunken Minerva and the kiss that they shared. She related the beginnings of a friendship after Rose's birth, and the joy and the pain that the letters they exchanged brought her. She detailed out what happened the night she went to Hogwarts, and the fight that ended everything. She didn't leave a single detail out, and two hours later, she found herself sobbing on Ginny's shoulder, exhausted by the magnitude of what it meant now that Rose was going to Hogwarts.

"You'll have to see her again, soon," Ginny whispered, stroking Hermione's hair.

"I don't know if I can, but Ron won't go near her," the elder of the two woman whimpered. "I just…none of it makes sense. There were moments over the years that I wonder if she felt something too, but she has been steadfast in denying anything of the sort."

"And if she did love you in return, Hermione, what then?" Ginny asked. "Would you leave Ron and the kids to be with a woman, who by what I'm hearing, has hurt you over and over and over again?"

Hermione just stared. Would she? Could she? Despite her and Ron's problems, past and present, they had built a good life together. Rose and Hugo needed her. They deserved more than a broken family. "I want to say no, Ginny," Hermione confessed. "But if presented with the option…if she…I…Ginny I love Ron, I really do, but Minerva has had my heart and soul for the better part of my life."

"That's not an answer," Ginny frowned.

"I know, but it's the best I can give," Hermione sighed.

"I'm sorry, hun," Ginny lamented. "I can't imagine what you've been through with her. She is a remarkable woman…perhaps she, knowing how you felt, thought pushing you away would help, not make it worse."

"There is no better or worse," Hermione whispered. "Just agony if I'm with her, and agony if I'm not."

* * *

**2021**

* * *

Minerva remembered the excuses she'd made to Filius to get him to handle the enrollment process of Rose Weasley, and then the following year, of her brother Hugo. She had managed to avoid Hermione completely since their last encounter, here at the school seven years ago. As Headmistress, she rarely had to interact with Rose or Hugo, though when she did, it was decidedly uncomfortable. She was cold toward them in a way she had never been while Hermione was a student, and with every encounter, every hurt expression coming from the brown eyes they'd both gotten from their mother, Minerva felt worse and worse.

They didn't deserve her harsh cadence. They didn't deserve to be singled out simply because they were _her_ children. Hell, she didn't deserve to the daily agony nine months out of the year seeing Hermione's children at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And so, she made a decision.

The Headmistress of twenty-three years walked into her deputy's office without even knocking. The only reason she knew she could get away with doing this, only a few weeks before start of the term, was because Filius had been training his replacement as Charms Professor for six years now, and only taught the NEWT level classes. "Filius," she said sharply. "Effective immediately, consider me retired."

The look on his face would have been funny if she didn't know he was about to ask the reason why.

* * *

**2026**

* * *

Hermione hugged her son tightly. "Well Hugo, you made it. You are a Hogwarts graduate. Congratulations."

"Thanks mum," Hugo said, grinning. "It was cool to see McGonagall again, you know, for the speech. I liked her, back in my first and second years when she was still Headmistress."

It took effort to keep her heart rate steady when he mentioned Minerva, but she did it. It had been hard today, seeing her up there on the dais, handing a diploma to her son, as she had handed Hermione her own, all those years ago. The moment had been bittersweet.

She had not spoken to Minerva in twenty years. Now and then, she had seen the woman in a crowd, but she always hurried the other way when she did, never daring to approach. She imagined that it must have been much the same for the older witch.

"Mr. Weasley," a familiar voice said behind her. "Might I borrow your mother for a moment?"

Hermione knew that voice, and didn't dare around. "Sure, Headmistress McGonagall," Hugo replied. "See you in a bit, mum."

She watched her son walk towards his father and sister, and then with a deep breath, she turned around. "Minerva," she breathed.

"It's been a long time, Hermione," the now snowy haired witch said quietly.

"It has."

"You've done so well for yourself," Minerva said. "I couldn't be prouder."

Hermione looked down. "I didn't want you to be proud of me," she said bitterly. "I wanted you to lo…"

"What you wanted," the older witch cut her off, "I could not give you. I doubt we will meet again, but I wanted you to know that even if I could not be happy with you, I always was happy for you."

"Why were you drunk that night?" Hermione asked for a second time, wondering if the crowd would prevent Minerva from arguing – that she'd simply answer the question.

The older witch gave her a weak smile. "I know how you love to learn, but there's some things you just can't know."

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to hold the tears at bay. "So, goodbye then?" she whispered, breathing in Minerva's scent for what she knew was probably the last time.

"I'm afraid so," Minerva nodded. "Though on a better note than the last time, I hope."

Hermione couldn't form a reply, so she simply nodded, biting her lip as, regardless of her effort not to, tears began falling down her cheeks.

"Goodbye, Hermione."

Hermione closed her stinging eyes tightly for a moment, trying to regain control. It was only a moment, but when she opened her eyes again, Minerva was gone.

"Goodbye," she whispered into the wind.

* * *

**2029**

* * *

Ginny Potter spotted her longtime friend and sister-in-law lingering behind after the funeral of Minerva McGonagall. She knew today would be hard on Hermione, but the angry storm in the brown eyes she knew so well had been unexpected. After most everyone had cleared off, she'd followed Hermione back to the tomb, watching from a distance as Hermione stared at the former Headmistress body with a mixture of love and hate in her posture and expressions.

"Fuck you, Minerva," she heard Hermione say, placing a rose on McGonagall's breast.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked softly.

The other woman turned around sharply, sighing in relief when she realized it was the one person who could understand why she was here. "She left me a letter, in her will," Hermione said, handing a roll of parchment to Ginny.

As Hermione collapsed on the ground next to the tomb, Ginny unrolled the letter and began to read.

_My Dear Hermione,_

_Twice, you asked me why I was drunk the night you kissed me. I leave this letter as the answer I could not give while I was living. I was drunk that night because you had just recently married Ron, and I was in love with you. On the night I managed to find a way to get away from Hogwarts to drink the agony away, you found me there in that muggle bar. Talk about irony. And then…you kissed me, and I kissed you back with every ounce of heart and soul I had. When I told you it meant nothing, I was lying. It meant everything. The memory of that kiss has been both the nourishment that kept me going in the years after, and the poison that slowly killed me. I know you'll want to know why, if I loved you as much as you loved me, I pushed you away. _

_The answer to that question is that I knew if I gave you the chance to choose me, you would. You would have abandoned your husband, your children, your job, and your life. Everything you worked for, you would have thrown away for me…and I could not let you do that. You deserved the life you've led, Hermione. You earned it. Like I said the last time we met at your son's graduation, I am proud of who you have become. I die with no regrets, save for any hurts I inflicted upon you in the process of trying to save you from yourself. That said, I hope you find some peace in knowing that all these years, you have not been alone in your pain – that I loved you too._

_Always yours,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Ginny looked up from the letter, tears streaming down her cheeks, moved by a revelation that she knew was turning her friend's life upside down right now. "Oh my God…Hermione…"

"She chose for both of us," Hermione said quietly. "She chose agony for both of us."

* * *

**Fin**

* * *

**PLEASE REVIEW! This one was a little out of the box for me, so I'm excited to hear what you guys think! **


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